


Hunger Pangs

by lola_lollipop_girl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (kind of? im not Sure but ill tag it just to be safe), Disordered Eating, Eating, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other, Recovery, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 05:42:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21387043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola_lollipop_girl/pseuds/lola_lollipop_girl
Summary: As a side-effect of his serpentine nature, Crowley has been experiencing hunger for as long as he can remember. Not wanting to give in, he refuses to let himself eat until the hunger becomes unbearable. When Aziraphale finds Crowley eating his first meal in centuries and learns the demon's secret, he's determined to take care of him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 175





	Hunger Pangs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Primarina (PastelBrachypelma)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBrachypelma/gifts).

> The summary sounds kind of angsty but I promise this is mostly SoftTM like, Crowleys a scrawny idiot who puts too much on himself but he gets better with love and care from Aziraphale to help him along 
> 
> Dedicated to primarina because she left nice comments on my fics and has written cool fics of her own

Crowley stared down at the pear tart he had just placed on the counter. Fragrant steam billowed into the air, and he could still hear the pears sizzling. The crust looked crispy and golden, the pears, warm and tender. Crowley couldn’t remember the last time he had seen anything so delicious, but he wouldn’t allow himself so much as a single bite. 

_It’s for Aziraphale_, he thought fiercely, the words a mental slap to the hand snaking toward the tart. 

He pictured Aziraphale enjoying the tart, savoring each bite with his usual zeal, sighing a little in delight and perhaps even sparing a little bit of that delight for Crowley who had, after all, baked the tart himself using pears from his garden. The gnawing in his stomach lightened for a moment; Crowley could get so caught up in watching Aziraphale eat that it could make him forget his own hunger. 

Crowley felt a hollow pang in his stomach, and his mouth started watering. 

Most of the time. 

Crowley groaned as the tart’s sweet scent reached his nose, wishing his sense of smell wasn’t quite so keen. When was the last time he had smelled something so appetizing? 

  
_Must’ve been centuries ago._ . . 

Crowley thought back to the crepes Aziraphale had treated him to during the French Revolution. He had only meant to try a bite when Aziraphale kept insisting, but he ended up finishing an entire plate. It had been so long since he had eaten before then, and after the first taste, his stomach kept demanding more. 

Crowley remembered feeling full and satisfied for only a moment before the shame set in. He had always tried to keep his appetite in check around Aziraphale; he didn’t want the angel to look down on him for it. Aziraphale chose to eat because he enjoyed it, but angels didn’t get hungry. 

Most demons didn’t, either, but Crowley’s serpentine nature made him desperate for food. His voracious appetite was something he hid away, like his eyes, something to suppress, like his tendency to hiss. He refused to give in. He didn’t want to be seen as a lowly, hungry creature. 

But the tart smelled so _good_, and his hunger was so_ sharp_, and it was _autumn_, and Crowley was always hungriest in autumn, when his body tried to force him to eat in preparation for the winter months. 

_Maybe just a nibble_, Crowley thought, cutting a tiny piece off the edge of the tart. _Have to taste it, after all. See if it’s good enough for Aziraphale. . ._

Crowley popped the bit of crust in his mouth, forcing himself to chew it as slowly as possible. Somehow, it tasted even better than it smelled. He found himself cutting off a larger piece. 

_Maybe a little more. That might’ve been the only good bit. Have to see if the rest is up to par, for Aziraphale. Fussy angel that he is, I’ve got to make sure every bit is perfect. _

Before Crowley realized what had happened, the tart was almost finished, and Aziraphale came into the kitchen to find him hovering over the remains with a fork. 

Aziraphale looked confused but not upset as he came closer, eventually lifting a hand to Crowley’s cheek to brush off a stray crumb. “Is something the matter, dear boy?” he asked, his voice infinitely gentle. “You seem tense.” 

Crowley pulled Aziraphale into a desperate hug, crushing him close with his skinny arms. He felt like he didn’t deserve to touch Aziraphale, but he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t keep himself from eating the tart. He couldn’t control himself at all. He was a demon, a wild animal, a beast. . . Crowley didn’t realize he was trembling until Aziraphale started rubbing his back. 

  
“Deep breaths, my dear. Everything will be fine. . . Come here, sweetheart.” He took Crowley’s hand and led him to the living room. In their small, homey cottage, it was only a few steps from the kitchen. “Let’s sit you down, love. There we go,” Aziraphale murmured as he eased Crowley onto the couch. He kissed the demon’s forehead. “Can you tell me what happened?” 

“’S cold,” Crowley muttered, trying to postpone the inevitable. 

Aziraphale miracled up a blanket and wrapped it securely over his shoulders. “Better?”  
  
“Mm. . .” 

Aziraphale let Crowley sit in silence for a moment before clearing his throat. “It seemed like you were having a little snack earlier. Were you upset that I saw you?” 

Crowley lowered his head. 

“Well, that’s quite alright, dear. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Aziraphale ran a gentle hand over Crowley’s short hair. “You can eat whenever you’d like to, of course.” Aziraphale looked slightly wounded. “I don’t know why you would feel the need to keep it a secret, but I won’t push you to eat in front of me if it would make you uncomfortable.” 

“You_ like_ eating,” said Crowley. “I do it because I have to. It’s a. . . snake thing,” he admitted, lowering his voice until it was almost inaudible. 

“A snake thing?” Aziraphale repeated hesitantly. “What do you— oh. _Oh._” Aziraphale nestled closer to Crowley, taking him in his arms. “You were hungry. Oh, Crowley. . .” Crowley leaned into his touch, and Aziraphale started rubbing his back again. “I wish you would have told me about this sooner,” said Aziraphale. “If I had known, I would have taken much better care of you.” He gave Crowley another soft kiss. “But you’ll forgive me, won’t you, dear?” 

  
“It’s my fault.”   
  
“No, it’s not,” said Aziraphale firmly, pulling back so he could look Crowley in the eyes. “It’s not your fault, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” His voice grew gentle again. “If you’re hungry, you should eat. That’s all that it means. I would never think less of you for it.” He smiled at Crowley with such warmth and sincerity that Crowley couldn’t help but smile back. “I love you, Crowley.”  
  
No matter how many times Aziraphale told him, Crowley felt like he would never get tired of hearing it. “I love you, too, angel.” 

***

It had taken more than one miracle to keep the kitchen from catching fire, but Aziraphale still studied his handiwork with pride. Two pieces of thick, only slightly burnt toast spread generously with butter and fresh raspberry jam—Crowley had planted several raspberry bushes in his garden, knowing how fond of them Aziraphale was— sausages, and a soft-boiled egg sat on a porcelain plate with watercolor strawberries decorating the edges. Aziraphale had chosen the plate specifically because the red berries reminded him of Crowley’s hair. 

Aziraphale fidgeted for a moment before carrying Crowley’s plate, as well as his own, to the bedroom. _Suppose he doesn’t like it? _He wondered. _It’s difficult to know what his tastes are._

He had done some research into the eating habits of various snake species after Crowley had gone to bed, but it was difficult to know how useful any of that information was. Crowley _was_ a snake, sometimes, but he was also a demon with a (mostly) human corporation. Still, most larger species of snake seemed to like meat and eggs, and the few times Aziraphale had seen Crowley eat— the tart, the crepes— involved sweeeter fare, so he had tried to strike an appropriate balance. 

It broke Aziraphale’s heart to think of Crowley being hungry. He didn’t want his beloved partner to suffer in any way, especially not when his pain could be so easily alleviated. 

_The poor dear. . . He’s always trying to protect me, and he is terribly strong, but he’s vulnerable, too. He needs to be loved and cared for like anyone else. _

Well, Crowley would never go hungry again, if Aziraphale had anything to say about it. He set the plates on the bedside table and peppered the demon’s face with kisses until his eyes opened. 

Aziraphale could feel himself smile in adoration as he met Crowley’s beautiful, luminous eyes. Still half-asleep, his defenses were lowered, and his eyes were completely golden. Aziraphale understood why Crowley kept them hidden away in public, but he wished the demon would relax more at home. He had more or less stopped wearing his sunglasses around the cottage, at least, but he still forced his eyes to maintain a more human-like appearance, with whites and round irises. Aziraphale hoped Crowley would one day be comfortable enough to let go of that pretense, too. 

“Good morning, dear heart,” said Aziraphale warmly. 

“Nnungh. . .” One of Crowley’s cold, bony hands slithered out from underneath the blanket and wrapped itself around Aziraphale’s wrist. 

The angel smiled and kissed Crowley’s forehead. “Are you hungry?”

Crowley made a face and rolled over. “‘M sleepy.” 

Even though Crowley wasn’t looking, Aziraphale couldn’t keep himself from pouting. “I made breakfast.” 

Crowley made a noise somewhere between a groan and a yawn as he sat up, stretching. “_Tha’ssss _alright, then,” he slurred. “Plenty hungry, then.” 

Aziraphale handed him a plate, and some pieces of silverware that found themselves miraculously transported from the kitchen. “I don’t cook for myself very often, so I’m afraid it might not be very good,” he began anxiously. 

Crowley snorted, spearing a sausage with his knife. “‘M sure it’s perfect. You worry too much, angel.” 

Aziraphale beamed. “Well, I hope you enjoy it.” 

Crowley took a bite of sausage, and his eyes widened. He ate the rest in seconds, then started in on another. 

Aziraphale patted his free hand. He wanted to tell Crowley to slow down, to pace himself and properly enjoy the meal, but he figured that was something that would come with time, when this awful hunger was nothing more than a distant memory. Besides, the last thing he wanted to do was make Crowley feel self-conscious about his appetite. Instead, Aziraphale picked up his own plate and took a bite of toast. 

  
“Oh, Crowley, try some of the jam!” He exclaimed. “It’s simply divine!” 

Crowley ate some toast and nodded. “Not too sweet.” 

Aziraphale stored that information away for future reference. He was looking forward to learning what Crowley liked to eat, perhaps even helping him discover new favorites. Until then, he would keep studying herpetology textbooks and making his best guesses. Aziraphale watched from the corner of his eye as Crowley devoured the egg in one bite before returning to the toast. It seemed to have worked, so far. 

Crowley cleared his plate, then settled in contently to watch Aziraphale enjoy his breakfast. They laughed and chatted, just as they had at every other meal they had shared over the millenia. Aziraphale hoped the familiarity would be reassuring for Crowley, so eating wouldn’t feel as strange to him. 

“Is that better, dear?” Aziraphale asked when he was finished, setting the empty plate aside. “Do you want anything else? If you’re still hungry, I could—” 

Crowley shook his head. “I’m full,” he said. He shook his head again, letting a hand rest on his stomach. “Didn’t know that could happen,” he added to himself. 

Aziraphale felt a pang in his heart, but he felt better when he reminded himself that Crowley wouldn’t have to endure his hunger alone anymore. He smiled at Crowley and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Well, whenever you’re feeling peckish, I want you to eat until you’re nice and full.” He lifted Crowley’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “Will you do that for me, love?” 

Crowley’s eyes shone with love, gratitude, and determination. “_Yessss_.” 

*** Months later ***

Aziraphale smiled when he saw Crowley already munching on the biscuits he had set out as a late-night snack. He handed the demon a mug of cocoa and kissed his cheek. His skin was dry and a little cold, so Aziraphale gave him another kiss for good measure. “At least that should warm you up,” he said, watching Crowley sip his cocoa. “You’re always so quick to catch a chill.”

“The sweater helps,” said Crowley, preening.

The sweater didn’t fit his usual aesthetic, but Crowley thought he managed to pull it off, anyway. He liked the way the burgundy cashmere Aziraphale had chosen brought out the brighter tones in his hair. It made him smile to think of Aziraphale fussing over different colors of yarn until he found the perfect shade. It was also the most comfortable item of clothing he owned, which made its relative lack of style more forgivable. 

Of course, the sweater could have been completely hideous and made of fire ants and Crowley still would have worn it to please Aziraphale, but the demon liked to pretend he had _some _pride left. 

Crowley had practically lived in the sweater since Aziraphale had finished knitting it in the fall. Minor miracles kept it from showing any signs of wear and tear, but Aziraphale could not help but notice that it strained over Crowley’s stomach and revealed a small strip of skin if he moved his arms too much.

“I’m glad you like it, but it _is _looking a bit tight on you, dear,” said Aziraphale. 

Crowley tensed. He had been steadily putting on weight all winter, but this was the first time Aziraphale had pointed it out. Crowley didn’t think the angel would be upset, but what if— 

“I’ll make you a new one with plenty of room to grow into.” Aziraphale patted Crowley’s belly and smiled fondly. “It won’t do to have this charming little tummy getting cold.”   
  
Crowley’s face burned. “Ngk.” 

Aziraphale kissed the demon’s flushed cheek, which was softer than it once was. “You look very handsome like this,” he said, tucking a lock of Crowley’s hair behind his ear. “Well-fed and cared for. . .” The angel’s eyes practically glowed with warmth and affection. “_Loved_.” 

Crowley practically threw his mug on the table so he could get his arms around Aziraphale faster.All he wanted was for the angel to hold him close and tell him he was loved, over and over, possibly until the end of time. 

Aziraphale gave his demon a well-deserved cuddle, murmuring sweet words until Crowley fell asleep in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Also primarina I'm sorry if it's weird to gift this to you since we don't know eachother, but I saw the comments you left on my other fics and really appreciated them, and I also read through some of your fics, and I found your hcs about Crowley experiencing hunger to be really interesting, so I wanted to write a fic with a similar premise! Hope you don't mind!


End file.
